The Miles Between - Page 59

Aidan puts his hand on Seth’s shoulder. “You all right, buddy?”

Seth’s head rears back and he howls. “Me. The statue.”

“Oh, my God,” I say.

“What?” Mira’s head spins sharply toward me. “Will you please tell us what’s going on with him? Is he all right?”

Seth regains enough composure to string more than two words together and blurts out, “That’s where I was hiding!” And promptly goes into another blubbering fit of laughter.

“What’s he talking about?” Aidan says, grabbing Lucky out of Seth’s arms like he’s afraid Seth may drop him.

“This morning Seth was hiding out under the statue trying to avoid trash duty.”

“And Destiny came and got me,” Seth says in a gulping breath. The laughter drains away as quickly as it came, and he looks at me, his face definitely several shades whiter than it was just a moment ago. “She saved my life. If she hadn’t come and got me—”

“You’d be flatter than a pancake!” Mira gasps.

“Yeah . . . I guess I would.” His gaze is fixed on me, and mine on him. Everything shifts to slow motion. “You saved my life,” he repeats. He takes a step toward me.

“The day’s come full circle, then, hasn’t it?” I answer. He steps closer. And I think, right then, right there, even in front of all these people, if Seth leaned forward and bent his head down to mine, I would—

“There you are!”

The world is jarred back to its quick pace. Mrs. Wicket is breathless, her hair a disarrayed jumble. She blows out a well-directed puff of air to shoo a stray silver wisp from her eyes. “I’ve been three steps behind you all day! Seems every time I would arrive somewhere, I would be told I just missed you. I included you in the head count the headmaster wanted since Jillian, Curtis, and Ben had all said they had seen you, but I wanted to see you for myself too.”

“We’re here, Mrs. Wicket, safe and sound,” I say.

She smiles, clearly relieved. “Yes, you are.”

Baaaa!

Aidan shoves Lucky back into Seth’s arms. “He wants you.”

“What have we here?” Mrs. Wicket asks.

The color springs back to Seth’s face. “My lamb, Mrs. Wicket. But he’s very well trained. I promise he—”

“A lamb! Seth! How did you know? The headmaster will be delighted!”

“Huh?”

“You know he’s been wanting to restore the old livestock pen to its previous use. He’s been rumbling about that project for months. As he puts it, he’s tired of the pen being used as a ‘den for questionable activities.’ He will be so pleased when he sees this adorable lamb. An excellent first addition and a great way to get his project off the ground! He’ll be so excited. Smart thinking, Seth. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he gave you extra credit! Must run now. Don’t forget, curfew in ten minutes.” Her eyes roll and she shakes her head. “Today has been unbelievable!” She gives Lucky a quick pat and is off on more business.

Extra credit. Unbelievable indeed. From start to finish.

She is already several feet away when I run after her. “Mrs. Wicket!” I call. She stops abruptly, and I nearly tumble into her. “I have a quick question.”

“Yes, dear?”

“I was wondering about Mr. Nestor, the visiting calculus teacher who was here—”

“Mr. who?”

“Nestor. He teaches calculus.”

“We have no Mr. Nestor here at Hedgebrook, dear. Visiting or otherwise. Are you sure you have the name right? Or maybe it was a reporter you spoke to? There’s been so much confusion today!”

A reporter? No. Perhaps the messenger who delivered the car and was trying to cover his identity? Maybe. A figment of my imagination? Possibly. Or perhaps someone else? Or something else? Something. “Of course. A reporter,” I answer. “That was probably it. Good night, Mrs. Wicket.”

Tags: Mary E. Pearson
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